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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22423957">Rock the Boat (Don't Rock the Boat, Baby)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanoffonamoR/pseuds/RomanoffonamoR'>RomanoffonamoR</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Littleverse [22]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Play, Alcohol, Background Clint/Bobbi/Natasha, Background Natasha &amp; Tony/Pepper, Big Steve Rogers, Bigs and littles are known, Cruise Ship, Gen, Littleverse, Marvel Cinematic Littleverse, Natasha is a Toddler when dropped but is really good at pretending to be other ages, Non graphic mention of abuse of Littles, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, Post Avengers, Sick Fic, Undercover Mission, Vacation, Vomiting, background Clint/Bobbi, background Natasha/Maria, heartmates, little Natasha romanoff, pre winter soldier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:48:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,952</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22423957</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanoffonamoR/pseuds/RomanoffonamoR</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Natasha Romanoff and Big Steve Rogers are on an undercover mission as a bonded Heartmate couple onboard a Big/Little cruise ship. </p><p>Will the fact that they actually *are* unbonded Heartmates affect how they handle themselves? And will they be able to remain professional and detached even when Natasha becomes ill with the stomach flu?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers &amp; Natasha Romanov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Littleverse [22]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/776190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>135</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, new fic time! This story takes place before The Winter Soldier in the movieverse timeline, and is the most recent fic in my Littleverse series. </p><p>If you haven't read any of my previous stories in this series a lot of what is going on in this fic won't make any sense, but to summarize briefly - Natasha and Steve recognize that they have a potential bond as Heartmates, but neither have made any indication to the other that they want to do anything about this potential bond. Natasha is already bonded with Pepper and Tony, and Steve is still mourning the loss of his former Little - Bucky. Ok so even if you *have* been following along, a lot of that is new information for you guys too lol.</p><p>Also important to note, Natasha is Soulmate bonded with Maria, but is still very close with Clint and Bobbi (the group of Littles are lovingly known as The Four Bears). Since this is my first story that takes place after The Avengers, I'll briefly state that Natasha and Maria are living in Stark Tower, and that Clint is as well. Bobbi comes and goes, but isn't an Avenger herself. Clint and Bobbi haven't split up or anything, she's just really busy with stuff related to her job (*cough* AoS *cough*), and has also been spending a lot of time at the farm with Laura.</p><p>Okay, I hope that's enough background information for you guys. If anyone has any questions please let me know in comments! I hope you guys enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Steve sighed as he awkwardly shifted the strap of his overstuffed duffel bag higher up onto his shoulder. He’d been planning on using the SHIELD issued Toddler stroller to carry their bags onto the ship but Natasha had decided to drop seemingly out of boredom while he’d been endlessly circling the parking lot looking for a place to park. Who would have thought that a Baby and Me cruise outing would be so damn popular?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well SHIELD did, apparently. As well as a bunch of bad guys, of course. Which is why they were here in the first place. This wasn’t a social outing meant to get him back into the world, this was a mission to scout out some really bad guys doing some really bad things to some really young Littles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of their initial briefing less than a week ago. The things these Bigs were doing to helpless Littles was honestly worse than some of the war crimes he’d witnessed all those years ago. At least back then the bad guys had mostly targeted soldiers, not innocent civilians, but even then there were just some taboos and boundaries the bad guys </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> cross. Not even Nazi’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hydra.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing once again, Steve did his best to ignore the lopsided weight on his back as he continued to push the stroller up the gangplank and onto the ship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you’re comfortable in there,” he mused aloud, rolling his eyes at the response of a thumbs up lifted high into the air so that he could see it over the numerous diaper bags loaded on top of the stroller. Just enough room to fit Natasha’s things, with no space left over for his own. Steve really hoped this wasn’t going to be a continuing theme with them. It was already going to be awkward enough having to share close quarters with his fellow agent and Avenger. If she purposefully went out of her way to make it difficult for him he wasn’t sure what he would do. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Put her on the naughty step. Natty </span>
  </em>
  <span>hates</span>
  <em>
    <span> the naughty step.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Tony Stark’s words of wisdom drifted through his head but he quickly pushed those thoughts away. He could never reprimand a Little, even for acting willfully disobedient. The fact that Natasha was his unbonded Heartmate had nothing to do with it, or so he kept telling himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re being awfully quiet for someone who cried while being buckled in there,” Steve commented after a few minutes, having finally made it fully onto the main deck of the cruise ship. Their joint room was on a lower level so he knew they would have to find an elevator in order to get down there. There was no way he was going to attempt to carry a stroller loaded with their things down a flight of stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having already memorized the layout of the ship before they’d left HQ, he turned right and began to follow the already steady stream of fellow Bigs towards their joint destination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made him feel less put out to note that Natasha clearly wasn’t the only Little who had decided to drop before embarking on the ship. Dozens of other Bigs were also pushing strollers laden with a mixture of luggage and wholly unhelpful Toddlers and Babies. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of empathy for one particularly frazzled Big who was currently struggling to push a ridiculous looking triple stroller containing three sobbing, clearly unhappy Babies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah alright, I take back my complaint,” Steve told the thankfully quiet Toddler in his own stroller. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An interrupted sucking noise followed by a giggle was the only response this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve started to roll his eyes again but then a thought suddenly occurred to him and he froze in his spot. He hadn’t given Natty a bottle or a pacifier yet, so what could she possibly be sucking on? “Oh, Natty, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Steve groaned in horror as he leant over the top of the stroller to see what she was doing. Despite having been buckled in securely the four year old had somehow managed to worm her left leg out of the leg hole so she could hold her foot up to her mouth and suck on her big toe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Natty that is just-- honey, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no,</span>
  </em>
  <span> your foot’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>dirty,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you can’t-- wait a second, where’s your shoe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Toddler pulled her toe from her mouth with a loud, wet </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop</span>
  </em>
  <span> and grinned up at him cheekily. There was a small string of drool hanging from her lip that began to pool on her chin and Steve resisted the urge to reach down and wipe it away with his thumb. While it would have certainly been in character for him to do so, it kind of felt a bit too intimate for their current “non-relationship relationship” status. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And by that he meant the fact that they were unbonded Heartmates. Destined to be together, but currently resisting the pull because neither one of them were capable of having an adult conversation about the matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least in Natasha’s case she had a valid excuse for constantly avoiding the topic. She already </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Heartmate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Two</span>
  </em>
  <span> of them, in fact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve understood that while multiple Heartmates were unusual in the grand scheme of things, they weren’t so unusual for younger Littles. Natty was four, so while she wasn’t as young as most of the other Littles on the cruise ship, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> still on the lower end of the spectrum of ages. But even though being four </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> sort of explain why she had two Heartmates, it definitely didn’t explain why Steve had a connection to her as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A Big having three Littles in their Care was one thing, but a Little having three Bigs? What would even be the point of that? There were only so many hours in the day, how could three Bigs possibly fit into the life of just one Little? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snapping back to reality, Steve frowned at the giggling Toddler as he began to search the stroller for her missing shoe and sock. Surely she wasn’t that deep into character that she’d do something as reckless as losing her footwear mere minutes after boarding the ship? Had Natasha even brought a second pair with her? Was he going to have to pay for a new pair from the no doubt ridiculously expensive on board store? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on Natty, where did you put it honey?” he asked as he reached into the crevices of the seat, his hands digging to the left and right of the squirming and laughing Little’s body. She clearly thought this was a game or that he was trying to tickle her or something. Her behavior would have been cute at any other time except now they were blocking the way for other Bigs and their oversized strollers to get past and they were drawing a lot of attention to themselves because of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not the best start to an undercover spy mission if he did say so himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think this is funny huh? You think this is funny making me frantically search for your shoe?” he asked after a few minutes, deciding there was no point in being upset at her behavior. She may have been a trained agent on a very important mission but she was also </span>
  <em>
    <span>dropped</span>
  </em>
  <span> and there was only so much responsibility he could place on her to stay focused on their task. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe this actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> her attempt at being focused on their task? They had to blend in, right? To appear like any other Big and Little couple on vacation? An eighteen month old losing their footwear was entirely within the realm of possibility. But then again so was a Big panicking over said lost footwear, so really their covers were fine and he should really just </span>
  <em>
    <span>relax</span>
  </em>
  <span> before he gave himself a stroke. </span>
</p><p><span>Taking care of Bucky had never been this stressful and Bucky had </span><em><span>actually</span></em> <em><span>been</span></em><span> a Toddler, unlike Natty who was only pretending to be one for the mission. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me sir, are you looking for this?” A male voice from behind spoke up and it took all of Steve’s concentration to not instinctively reach for the shield he normally carried on his back. He didn’t have it with him of course. They were meant to be undercover and nothing was more recognizable at this point in time than his star spangled shield. Aliens invading a city tended to garner a lot of attention from the press and his face as well as uniform had been plastered all over the television for the last six months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was also why he’d had to grow a beard and dye his hair dark brown for this mission. At least he wasn’t alone in that endeavour, though he couldn’t help but think Natty looked adorable as a short, curly haired blonde. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, what?” Steve managed to ask, blinking a few times as he studied the individual coming towards him. They looked innocent enough standing behind their equally overloaded stroller. The Little sitting in the front didn’t look innocent at all though, but Steve supposed he shouldn’t really judge the lad just because he was currently pulling the leg off of a GI Joe action figure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw this fall out of your stroller when I was walking behind you. I think your Baby may have lost it?” The Big explained, holding the red sparkly shoe up so that Steve could better see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well damn. He was definitely going to have to have a talk with Natty when they got to their room. And dare he say it, possibly even need to put her on some form of “naughty step” for so carelessly losing her shoe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh geeze, yeah, thank you. I’ve been looking all over for it once I realized it was missing,” Steve explained, his face turning red from embarrassment. He wasn’t quite sure if he was acting that way or if he truly was embarrassed, but what did it matter at that point? Clearly the other Big was buying his act one way or another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to be careful with really Little ones like that. My wife has a coworker whos Little is a Baby and she’s always going on about how expensive it is to constantly rebuy things that she’s lost,” the man explained conversationally as he reached over to hand the shoe and sock to Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking the items and setting them on the top of Natty’s diaper bag, Steve simply nodded as if he too understood the struggle. “Yeah, she’s a real drain on the ole bank account that’s for sure,” he replied but then immediately winced at how awful that sounded. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Way to go Rogers. Now you sound like an asshole Big instead of just an inattentive one.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The man didn’t seem to notice the underlying negativity of what he’d just said, at least judging from the laughter he got in response. Or maybe the man </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> notice and it was that he simply agreed? That made Steve even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> uncomfortable than he was before and he glanced down at Natty, hoping the girl could come up with a way to get them out of this awkward situation before he made it even worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four year old was still sucking on her toe when their eyes met, but she must have seen the desperation in his expression because she let go of her foot and began to wiggle around in her seat. “Papa peepee! Papa peepee!” she gasped, reaching down and gripping herself where her diaper should have been. She hadn’t actually been dressed for a drop when they’d arrived and Steve hadn’t even thought about the fact that she wasn’t wearing protection under her pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until now that is. Even though in the back of his mind he knew that this had to be part of her act, his Big instincts still began to surface and he gripped the handles of the stroller in mounting fear. He had to get Natty to a potty before she wet herself! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks again for the shoe!” Steve told the Big as he began to push the stroller once more down the deck and towards the elevator. “Hold on Natty baby, we’ll get you to the restroom. Please don’t wet yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he couldn’t see her from his current vantage point Steve could hear the girl whimpering as she continued to wriggle back and forth in her seat. Shit, did she </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to go now? Damn, that was some method acting right there. “Nat please, I don’t want to have to clean piss out of a stroller,” he whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papa peepee!” Natty whined back, almost sounding on the verge of tears now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Steve groaned as he rounded the corner towards the block of elevators in the center of the ship. There was already a huge line of strollers waiting to use them and judging from how far back they were in the queue it would take at least fifteen minutes to get below deck. They couldn’t wait that long!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing left and right Steve about cried with happiness when he spotted a public restroom not too far from where they were standing. Thankfully there didn’t seem to be a line for it like there was for the elevators. “Hang on Natty, we’re almost to the potty,” he told the girl as he pushed the stroller towards their hopeful salvation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once inside the restroom he parked the stroller off to the side by the sinks. Without thinking to ask first he leant down and unbuckled the Little and then gripped her under the armpits so he could hoist her upwards out of her seat. It was a bit awkward since one of her legs was already out of the hole and that meant having to carefully maneuver her so that she could get her remaining one free without injuring herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took longer than he’d hoped for but eventually he got the girl free from her stroller. “Hang on Natty, please don’t pee yet,” he pleaded as he awkwardly carried the girl across the bathroom and into the nearest stall. Thankfully he was strong enough to hold her at arms length since he hadn’t wanted to put her on his hip incase she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> pee. “Almost there,” he repeated as he set her down on the floor in front of the toilet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Already on autopilot Steve got down on one knee and began undoing the button and zipper on the front of her jeans, tugging the collection of fabric down her legs once he was done. Standing up he placed his hands under the girl’s armpits once more and lifted her this time onto the toilet seat. Once he was satisfied she wasn’t going to fall off he backed his way out of the stall and closed the door, gripping the top of it so it would remain closed despite being unlocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh thank god,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he whispered internally, breathing a deep sigh of relief that they’d made it on time. While he understood rationally that urine was sterile he couldn’t help but think of all the rashes Bucky used to get when he was left in wet clothing for too long. Since back in their time all diapers were made of cloth it didn’t really matter if a Little were wearing protection or not. Any amount of time spent wet had the potential to end in disaster, and since their cruise was a full seven days long Steve didn’t want to risk the chance of it happening to Natty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Partially because she was his friend and teammate and he owed her that much, but also because he didn’t think he’d be able to live it down if they returned to Stark Tower in a week and Tony found out he’d let his Baby Girl get a diaper rash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve continued to worry about such a possibility for another minute or so before something occurred to him. Despite having made sure Natty was positioned properly on the toilet he hadn’t heard any tinkling just yet. Oh no. Maybe he was wrong and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been too late? He hadn’t thought to inspect her jeans while he’d been pulling them down so maybe he’d missed the telltale wetspot? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth to ask if everything was alright but before he could Natty spoke up first, “Uh Steve, I didn’t actually have to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve blinked in surprise at the voice. That definitely wasn’t Natty who was speaking. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly a shuffling noise followed by a pair of feet hitting the tile floor sounded from inside the stall and Steve took a giant step backwards, letting go of the door as he did so. He was a mixture of horrified and embarrassed. Why had Natasha aged up? Had he done something wrong? Or made her uncomfortable somehow? They’d never really discussed an action plan for a situation like this so maybe he’d overstepped his bounds? Maybe it wasn’t appropriate for him to help her onto the toilet? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh god, what if he’d broken some unspoken rule about unbonded Bigs and Littles? With Bucky there had never been any confusion about what was okay for him to do. Bucky had been his bonded Heartmate from day one, but Natasha? Even though she was still technically his Heartmate she hadn’t actually consented to any specific behaviors from him just yet. Fuck, they hadn’t even had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>conversation</span>
  </em>
  <span> about their situation let alone made any ground rules about how they should act around the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve turned around quickly as the stall door swung open and Natasha stepped out. Despite his movement he did manage to catch a glimpse of the expression on her face. She looked flustered maybe? Or amused? It was hard to tell with Romanoff since she rarely let her true emotions show on her face. What he could sense from her though using his Big instincts was that she was just as startled as he was at having aged up again so quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which kind of made no sense since Littles had the ability to choose when to age back up. Natasha may have had other things going on inside of her mind while dropped but the process of dropping and then reemerging as an adult were still the same, right? Steve couldn’t help but think these were questions he should have already had the answers to before being assigned this mission with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on Rogers, don’t act all embarrassed about it now. You made an incorrect call in the field, it happens, trust me,” Natasha explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shook his head as he listened to his teammate crossing awkwardly towards the stroller he’d left parked by the sinks. It sounded almost like she were hopping on one foot, which made no-- “Oh geeze, your shoe!” he exclaimed, spinning around just in time to watch her make it to the item in question. How had he forgotten that she was partially barefoot? These floors were probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>filthy</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he’d left her to hobble across them on her own!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay seriously, Rogers, relax. The Red Room didn’t give me superpowers like yours but what they </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> manage to give me is a rock solid immune system. I could </span>
  <em>
    <span>eat</span>
  </em>
  <span> off of this floor and be perfectly fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve blanched at the very idea. “Please don’t. And please don’t stick your toe back in your mouth either. Not until you’ve had a chance to wash your feet.” He moved towards the wall adjacent to the row of sinks and grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser. He then turned and crossed back over to his partner, offering her the towel with an outstretched hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha looked at the towel in confusion for a moment before taking it from him. “What’s this for?” she asked, setting it down on the top of the stroller. She’d already brought her foot up to rest against the counter and was now working on relacing her shoe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve couldn’t help but notice that she hadn’t bothered to put her missing sock back on first. “It’s for the drool. You’ve got a bit of it on your chin still,” he told her, pointing at her reflection in the mirror above the sink she was standing in front of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That actually got a laugh out of her and Steve relaxed finally, watching as she wiped at the wetness with the back of her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dad,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she replied with a roll of her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Steve could reply with a witty comeback of his own, the door to the bathroom opened and a woman in her early to mid-forties entered. Trailing behind her was a Little Boy who, judging from his awkward gate, was there to receive a diaper change. The woman took one look at Natasha, still standing at the sink with her foot on the counter, before turning her now displeased expression on Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, just because this is a family restroom doesn’t mean you should be in here with her when she’s not dropped,” the woman told him, disgust and possibly even anger lacing her voice. The Little Boy behind her whimpered at his Big’s words and shuffled closer to her so he was hidden from view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Steve floundered, not having expected to be interrupted, let alone reprimanded by a total stranger. He certainly didn’t like what she was implying, although considering the type of mission that they were on he couldn’t exactly fault her for being upset at what she believed to be an accurate assessment of the situation. Then there was the fact that she was technically correct that family restrooms were only meant for Bigs and their </span>
  <em>
    <span>dropped</span>
  </em>
  <span> Littles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to tell her that his Little </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been dropped when they’d entered but before he could get the words out Natasha did something that honestly took his breath right out of his lungs. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>dropped.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Instantly. And within only minutes of having just aged back up. In all his years Steve had never seen a Little be able to do that, at least outside of a panic or trauma induced drop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Natasha didn’t seem panicked </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> traumatized, yet she somehow was able to reactivate the mechanism in her brain that allowed her to descend back into her Little headspace of her own free will. It was dizzying and impressive and terrifying all at the same time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not to mention, as far as Steve understood it there was also a very specific psychological reason that Littles </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> drop again so quickly after having just woken up, but hell if he knew how to properly explain it. The only Littles that had been in his life so far hadn’t been able to willingly do what Natasha had just done, though Bucky </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> occasionally rapid cycled his drops when the second one was an unexpected panic drop. The times that that had happened had been some of the scariest moments of Steve’s life, and probably some of the worst of Bucky’s as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the no doubt impending negative consequences, Natasha-- no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Natty,</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t seem all that concerned that she’d just done something incredibly dangerous and unusual. In fact all she seemed concerned with was the fact that Steve was a good five or six feet away from her and she couldn’t reach him from her current spot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Papa!” the Little cried, her eyes welling up with tears as she outstretched her arms towards him. “Papa! Papa! Papa!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the shocked gasps from the intruding Big and her Little, Steve crossed over to Natty and pulled the girl into his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I’m sorry! I didn’t know she was--” the Big stammered, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish trying to breath outside of its water bowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes well, maybe you’ll think about that next time before you go around assuming things about others,” Steve shot back, a part of him actually feeling bad for the woman now. She genuinely looked upset at her mistake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For her part Natty continued to cry, her face buried against Steve’s neck. The shoe she’d been in the process of re-lacing was sitting on the counter now, having fallen off her foot when he’d scooped her into his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shifting her a little so she was able to perch on his hip, Steve reached out and grasped the shoe, placing it once again on the top of the stroller. Now that the seat portion of it wasn’t occupied he briefly considered removing his duffel and placing it where Natty had previously been, but in order to do so he’d have to put the girl down for a moment and that simply wasn’t going to happen. He’d carried far heavier loads in the war; he could manage the rest of the trip to their cabin with his bag </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> his Baby Girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my Daughter to our room so I can begin calming her down,” Steve told the Big as he gripped the stroller with one hand and began to maneuver it away from the sinks and towards the exit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Save it, ma’am, you’ve already done enough,” Steve shot back, surprised at how satisfying it felt to watch both embarrassment and shame spread across the Big’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman remained quiet as she shuffled a bit to her left so that Steve could squeeze himself, Natty, and the stroller past her and out the door.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for your enthusiasm for this new fic! I’m glad you’re all enjoying it :) </p>
<p>I should have put this in the last chapters notes but in case anyone was wondering about Natty's unusual age in this fic. Basically Steve is an unreliable narrator. He thinks she’s 4 and is pretending to be 2 for the mission. When in reality Natty is 2, pretending to be 4, pretending to be 2 lol. Why Steve thinks that will be explained later on :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ten minutes later Steve finally opened the door to their cabin and stepped inside, the stroller trailing awkwardly behind him now as he maneuvered himself through the narrow doorway with both his duffel on his back and his dropped partner still clinging to his side. Natty had eventually stopped crying once they’d made it into an elevator but hadn’t made any indication or gesture that she wanted to be put down, so he’d kept her glued to his side just incase. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not to mention she was still missing a shoe on one foot, and while Steve had no doubt that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Agent Romanoff</span>
  </em>
  <span> could handle a stubbed toe or possibly stepping on something sharp, he didn’t think Natty’s already frazzled nerves would be able to tolerate the additional abuse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here we are baby girl. Inside. Finally,” Steve cooed as he shoved the stroller off to the side so he could shut the cabin door behind him. The lights in the entryway seemed to be on some sort of motion sensor, which, while currently convenient, was also going to be rather frustrating with a four year old in the room. Then again Steve never had trouble sleeping in bright daylight so maybe it wouldn’t be an issue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kicking off his own shoes by the door, he stepped further into the cabin in order to perform a quick visual inspection of their accommodations. The room wasn’t luxurious by any means but it was a great deal nicer than any of the places he’d stayed on SHIELD property thus far. The room was maybe 20 feet long by 10 feet wide. The far end by the large window had a couch with a TV opposite it, as well as a twin bunk bed attached to the wall above the couch. Steve could already sense he was going to have a difficult time keeping Natty from playing up there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next to the couch and suspended from the ceiling was a curtain that looked like it could be pulled entirely across the narrow width of the cabin, effectively making the den area into its own separate room. Steve wasn’t sure what the purpose of that was since there was no way the curtain would block off the sound of a TV but he supposed it was nice the option was there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the side closer to them was a single queen sized bed with a full length dresser on one side and a smaller nightstand on the other. In between where he currently stood and the bed was a door which he assumed led to the ensuite bathroom. All in all, it wasn’t terrible looking. Maybe a bit gaudy with the burgundy shag carpet and white and gold wallpaper on the walls but Steve could deal with that. What he wasn’t sure he could deal with was the fact that there was only one bed on “ground level”.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I realize we’re supposed to be undercover but would it have killed Logistics to have at least gotten us a double?” he sighed, stepping closer to the bed and prodding the edge of the mattress with his shin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t Logistics Steve, this is Accounting. ‘SHIELD Budget Cuts 2013: One of You is Sleeping on the Pullout, Edition’,” Natasha answered, amusement clearly evident in her voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve turned his head to look at her, blinking once, then twice, then freezing solid in his spot. Natasha wasn’t dropped anymore, yet he was still holding her on his hip as if she was! “Jesus, Romanoff!” Steve gasped, releasing his arms from around her back and beneath one of her knees. Instead of immediately dropping to the floor she continued to hover against his side, the entirety of her weight now supported by her thigh muscles alone. It was impressive, but also mortifying that she was still clinging to him while in this state. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you seriously just try to </span>
  <em>
    <span>drop</span>
  </em>
  <span> me, Rogers? I’m missing a shoe! What if I’d hurt myself?” Natasha grinned as she relinquished her hold around him, landing delicately and effortlessly onto the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve didn’t wait for her to move away, backing his own self up so he could put some distance between them. He was annoyed at her deception, but also frustrated with himself for not having noticed that she’d aged up once again. “How are you still functioning right now?” he asked, staring at her in something akin to awe. If Bucky had somehow managed to force himself to rapid cycle through not just one but </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> drops, he’d have most certainly been sick or unconscious by now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha raised an eyebrow at the question. “I have a very unique skill set, Rogers,” she replied, as if that somehow explained all of her growing mysteries to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s not gonna cut it,” Steve insisted, frowning as he watched her start to move around the room, clearly on the lookout for something. “What, you think the room might be bugged?” he asked, setting his duffel on the end of the bed. It wouldn’t make sense for it to be since only SHIELD and their fellow Avengers knew they were there. Unless the bad guys had somehow been tipped off to their mission? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he should have made a better effort to inspect the room himself instead of worrying over which one of them was going to be sleeping on the couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not looking for bugs, I’m looking for a minibar,” Natasha explained as she crossed the room now towards the bathroom, her gate clumsy and awkward though most likely due to her uneven footwear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A minibar? This is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Littles</span>
  </em>
  <span> Cruise. Did you really think they’d supply alcohol in the rooms knowing they’d soon be filled with Babies and Toddlers?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, newsflash for ya, Babies and Toddlers are people too. We can be just as much raging alcoholics as the rest of you.” Natasha’s response was somewhat muffled since she was currently investigating the bathroom and out of his direct line of sight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this your way of telling me you’re an alcoholic?” Steve asked as he narrowed his eyes, stepping further alongside the bed so he was out of his partners way when she reappeared in the main room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha ignored his question, instead focusing her attention on the stroller by the main door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve thought she might have been going for her missing shoe but she actually bypassed it in favor of what was beneath it - one of her diaper bags. He watched in mounting concern as she began to rifle through the various side pockets, eventually finding and pulling out what looked like an old fashioned hip flask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clint, you beautiful son of a bitch,” Natasha laughed to herself as she toasted the empty air in front of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she started to untwist the cap, Steve quickly moved to intercept, reaching out and taking the flask from her hands before she could lift it up to her lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rogers?!” Natasha exclaimed, reaching towards him for her stolen goods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve lifted the alcohol upwards as far as he could, taking a few steps backward and away from his suddenly furious partner. “We’re on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mission,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Romanoff. I don’t care what your other teammates allowed you to get away with, when you’re working with me you don’t drink until </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> the job is done,” he told her, making sure there was no uncertainty in his voice. This was a personal rule of his he’d managed to uphold all throughout the war. He wasn’t about to let Natasha break it less than an hour into their first solo assignment together, </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> without a valid reason for needing to drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god you’re serious, aren't you?” Natasha asked, stepping around the stroller as she stared at him in shock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dead right I’m serious. Alcohol not only impairs your judgment but it also slows your reflexes. I will not have you be a liability on my--” Steve didn’t get a chance to finish his statement. Before he could even process what was happening Natasha was running full speed at him, scaling up his torso like she were climbing a</span>
  <em>
    <span> god-damn tree.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve tried to throw her off before she could grab the flask in his still outstretched hand but she quickly wrapped her thighs around his neck and began to choke off his supply of oxygen. He had no choice then but to let go of the alcohol, his hands now occupied with trying to pry her legs from around his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now that his partner had what she wanted, instead of immediately releasing him she instead finished unscrewing the top of the flask and began to drink down the liquid, all the while still choking him with her inhumanly strong thigh muscles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve staggered backwards into the wall opposite the bed, his vision starting to blur as his lungs screamed for air. He knew he had the ability to remove her from his neck before he passed out, he just wasn’t certain he could do it without seriously injuring her in the process. As confused and angry as he was in the moment, Natasha was still his Heartmate. He wasn’t going to risk severely injuring her because they’d gotten into an argument about drinking while on the job.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you learned your lesson yet about taking things that aren’t yours?” Natasha asked after swallowing down what he thought had to be half of the small container. She moved her free hand into his hair, gripping his head most likely for stability as he continued to try and throw her off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As his peripheral vision began to darken Steve begrudgingly accepted the fact that the only option he had to avoid passing out was to acknowledge that yes, he had learned his lesson. And most likely that no, he wouldn’t try and stop her from drinking in the future. He hated the idea of giving in to her like this but he also didn’t want to be rendered unconscious either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unable to speak due to her thighs crushing his throat he simply nodded his head, hoping she’d at least show him mercy and not make him beg to be let go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See, that wasn’t so difficult,” Natasha purred, clearly patronizing him and his stubbornness to concede. In a move nearly identical to the one she’d performed earlier, the Little released her thighs from around him and dropped swiftly and lightly to the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once freed Steve immediately doubled over, his hands instinctively moving to protect his neck as he gasped desperately for air. Rationally he didn’t think he was still in danger of being strangled but his body was operating on autopilot now. Natasha had crossed a line with her ‘lesson’ and he wasn’t about to let his guard down around her anytime soon. Heartmates or not she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> attacked him and that didn’t sit well with him at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh come on, you survived 70 years as a frozen Capsicle but you can’t handle a little asphyxiation between friends?” Natasha taunted as she awkwardly toed off her remaining shoe and sock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve couldn’t help but notice that she seemed incredibly unbalanced in her actions. Like she was somehow already drunk despite having only just consumed the alcohol. What the hell was going on? Or more importantly, what the hell was in that flask? “Nat?” he asked, or rather wheezed. It felt strange using the shorthand of her name but he didn’t think he’d be able to get the entire thing out in his current state. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha made no indication that she heard him, her attention focused on the sparkly red shoe she was now holding in one hand. In her other she still had the old fashioned flask but thankfully hadn’t brought it back up to her lips. “I didn’t…” she spoke, turning slightly so she was facing Steve directly now. “...pick these…” she added, blinking rapidly as she stared at her footwear in obvious confusion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Natasha?” Steve asked again, his frantic breathing having calmed down enough he thought he could get out her entire name. “Maybe… maybe you should sit down…” he told her, standing up fully now. While he’d been struggling to catch his breath he’d backed himself against the wall opposite the bed. This of course meant he wasn’t quite within arms reach of the Little when she suddenly started to sway on her feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too… too… la-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit…”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Natasha suddenly dropped her shoe and frantically attempted to bring the flask back up to her mouth, but before she could manage it her legs seemed to give out and she collapsed downwards onto her backside. She sat there stunned for half a second before her entire body began to convulse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve lunged forward, managing to catch the Little by the shoulders before she could fall backwards and hit her head on the side of the nightstand. “Natasha? Natasha!” he shouted in panic as he carefully arranged her onto her back and then up onto her side. He wasn’t entirely sure if this was a seizure but it was better to be safe than to risk her choking on her own vomit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky had suffered from frequent and debilitating seizures in the months following his units rescue from captivity during the war. Steve had been able to guess that he’d been experimented on by the enemy but he’d never been able to find out what exactly had been done to him. And now, even though the circumstances were completely different, he couldn’t help but feel the same icy cold dread grip him as he watched Natasha shake and convulse in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d already lost Bucky. He couldn’t lose Natasha too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell do I do?” he whispered frantically, his panic boiling over the longer the Little continued to seize. At least a minute had gone by since it had started. Bucky’s had only ever lasted twenty or thirty seconds at most, but even then he’d always been incredibly messed up afterwards, like how he got after rapid cycling his drops. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh god. That had to be what this was! Despite Natasha’s insistence that she was fine, she was obviously having a negative reaction to the back to back drops! Or maybe it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the alcohol? Or a combination of both? What the hell was even </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> that flask? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without taking his eyes off of his still seizing Heartmate he reached out with his leg and began to nudge the discarded container closer. Once it was within reaching distance he briefly let go of Natasha’s shoulder and picked up the flask, bringing it quickly to his nose for a brief whiff. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Jesus, Absinthe!? Really?” he half gasped, half coughed as the all too pungent aroma assaulted his already fragile airway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the experiment that made him who he is today, he hadn’t been able to get drunk on traditional wine and spirits. Absinthe, or as he’d known it back then, The Green Fairy, was the only type of alcohol that his system wasn’t able to burn through quickly enough to avoid any psychotropic effects. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last time he had tried the stuff was the night before that fateful mission on the train, where he had lost his best friend and Heartmate forever. Even though every doctor and counselor he had spoken to afterwards unanimously assured him that the alcohol hadn’t still been in his system at the time, he still couldn’t shake the belief that he was to blame for Bucky’s fall. It was the only time he had broken his ‘no drinking before the mission is over’ rule and he had lost his Heartmate because of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“.... Clint….” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve was so caught up in his past memories that he hadn’t even noticed that Natasha had stopped seizing. “Nat? Natasha? Are you alright?” he dropped the flask and moved back to his previous spot next to her, his hands helping to roll her onto her back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked awful; pale, sweaty, her breathing labored and her gaze unfocused on the area above her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moving into her line of view Steve could have cried when her eyes made contact with his and didn’t immediately drift away. That meant she was in there and not stuck somewhere in cognitive limbo like Bucky had occasionally been. Nothing had terrified him more than seeing his Heartmate’s gaze pierce directly through him like he wasn’t even there at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, I’ve got you. You’re alright,” he reassured, moving a hand to gently begin brushing some sweat soaked hair from the Little’s forehead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha flinched at the touch and it took all of Steve’s mental willpower not to be hurt by the reaction. He had to remind himself that she was clearly disoriented after such an episode. It wasn’t personal. It couldn’t be personal. He was only trying to help. She had to know that, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clint…” Natasha whimpered again, closing her eyes. A collection of tears began to pool beneath her lashes even though she didn’t otherwise appear to be crying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve nodded his head, trying his best not to appear outwardly affected by her request for someone other than himself. Maria Hill was Natasha’s Soulmate, not Clint Barton, but he was probably the closest thing to a biological sibling that she had, at least judging from the way the two interacted when around each other. In the back of his mind Steve knew there was a fourth person that made up her found family unit but he hadn’t yet met him. Whoever Bobby Morse was, they weren’t part of The Avengers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cellphone, cellphone…” Steve repeated to himself quietly as he stood up and began searching through Natasha’s bags. He managed to find another two flasks and what appeared to be a bag of marijuana before he eventually found her cellphone. If Clint </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> packed this bag for her he was definitely going to be having a talk with him when they got home. The copious amounts of alcohol concerned him, sure, but the drugs? How was he supposed to trust Natasha to watch his six when he didn’t know what was in her system, potentially affecting her judgment and reflexes? At least alcohol wore off in a few hours; pot could remain in her bloodstream for </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeks.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now that he had her cellphone in his hands he realized he wouldn’t be able to turn it on without her password or thumbprint. Sighing at the inherent invasion of privacy he was about to commit, he got back down onto his knees and reached for her hand. Before he could make contact with her otherwise limp limb she began to whimper again and cracked her eyes open. Whether it was the fact he was clearly reaching for her hand or the egregiously guilty expression he no doubt had on his face, she obviously understood what his intentions had been and frowned at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your print unlocks it too,” she told him, her voice scratchy and weak. She looked like she was struggling not to pass out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve felt his heart skip a beat inside his chest at her words. He’d had no idea more than one thumbprint could be used to unlock an agent’s cellphone, but more than that, he hadn’t realized Natasha had trusted him enough to attach </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> print to her otherwise personal private property. Okay so it was technically SHIELD’s property, but the fact still remained that she trusted him to use her phone without her present and that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pressing the circular home button, he couldn’t hold back the laugh at the image that came up on the lock screen. It was a snapshot of himself, Tony, and Natty seated at a ridiculously short pink and white table in what was clearly her Little playroom in Stark Tower. On the table was an assortment of plastic girly cups and plates, with a larger teapot centered in the middle of them. Steve vividly remembered this being the first ever tea party Natty had invited him to but he hadn’t realized someone had managed to take a photo of the event. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It warmed his heart to think that this was the image she chose to put on her phone, but it also kind of broke it too since there was clearly a connection between Tony and Natty in the photo. The four year old was in the middle of teaching Tony how to properly hold his teacup and the expressions on both their faces as they smiled at each other were so full of love. Contrast that to Steve’s own expression which was much more subdued, though he was still smiling at the two opposite the table to himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kinda dying here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha’s shaky voice snapped Steve out of his thoughts and he quickly pressed the home button a second time, relieved but also a little saddened to see the standard grey and black SHIELD logo was her main background image. Even though new age technology as a whole was still overwhelming for him, cellphones were one of the first things SHIELD had taught him how to use. Navigating with practiced ease, he brought up Natasha’s contact list and then scrolled down until Barton’s name appeared. Pressing the tiny image of a telephone next to his name, he then realized he wasn’t sure if he should answer it himself or simply hand it off to his partner to do all the talking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the line began to ring he decided to give it to Natasha, but when he looked back down at her he realized that she was no longer conscious! Oh shit! What was he going to do? What was he going to say? He couldn’t very well hang up on Barton now that he’d initiated the call. Scrambling closer, he instinctively pressed his first two fingers to Natasha’s neck even though it was obvious she was still alive by the steady rise and fall of her chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey </span>
  <em>
    <span>jerkface,</span>
  </em>
  <span> do you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what time it is here in Asia?” Clint Barton’s groggy voice suddenly spoke over the line. “Oh, wait, this isn’t about having to share a bed with Steve again is it? I know he’s a Big, but he’s also old fashioned. He’d sleep on the couch if you asked him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve frowned as he listened to the man talk. Natasha had apparently been concerned enough about sharing a room with him that she’d actually had a conversation about it with Barton. Part of him wanted to defend himself to the man, to explain that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously</span>
  </em>
  <span> would take the couch and let Natasha have the bed, but he pushed that aside in favor of the more pressing issue at hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Barton, it’s Rogers. Romanoff passed out after dropping back to back. We’re in the cabin and we’re safe but she--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nat. You know I always pack you the good stuff,” Barton replied with what sounded like agitation as well as concern, his comment clearly aimed towards his unconscious best friend. Steve pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed the speaker button, wondering if perhaps hearing her friend’s voice would help to bring Natasha back around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re talking about the alcohol in her diaper bag, she found it,” Steve responded as he set the phone down a foot or so away from Natasha’s head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus, Steve, how close were her drops? That stuff’s 140 proof. She should have been golden if she’d found it in time.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve found himself frowning once again as confusion mixed with a growing sense of dread bubbled up inside of him. It almost sounded like Barton believed the alcohol was meant to prevent what he’d just witnessed, but how could that be? Alcohol was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>depressant,</span>
  </em>
  <span> not a cure all for post back to back drop sickness. “I uh-- I kinda stopped her, at first,” he eventually responded, his stomach feeling like a lead weight had settled inside of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean you stopped her? From </span>
  <em>
    <span>drinking?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Oh for fucks sake Rogers! Please tell me you didn’t try and prevent her from drinking?! What? No! I won’t keep my voice down! Go suck a fat one Kazinski!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That lead weight was quickly turning into a lead bowling ball the longer Steve sat there and processed what it was Barton was saying. The alcohol wasn’t recreational, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>medicinal,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he’d kept it from her. This was all his fault. </span>
</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the delay. I've been sick with a regular cold for weeks now and just when I'm getting better the whole world shuts down. :(</p><p>I'm hoping no one thinks this fic is now in bad taste (the whole getting sick on board a cruise ship) but I promise it won't be that type of sickness, and this fic was actually started back in August of 19 so yeah :( </p><p>Lots of exposition in this chapter. I needed to get this info out of the way so I could get  back to the fun stuff. Please keep in mind I'm not a scientist and this entire worldbuilding thing is based on absolutely no facts, just a lot of intricate and artsy hand waving.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“...And then Happy sat down on the whoop-eed cushion and it <em> farted!” </em> Ria laughed conspiratorially, her infectious smile lighting up the phone screen as she eagerly recounted her latest exploit with her Uncle Tony. </p><p>Despite still feeling like absolute shit, Natasha couldn’t help but smile back encouragingly at the enthusiastic Little. “And then what happened?”</p><p>“And then Uncle Tony... And then Uncle Tony and I made a blanket fort and then… And then we… And then...” the Little on the screen suddenly began to wheeze, her excitement to relay her story now affecting her breathing. </p><p>“Ria sweetie, slow down and take a deep breath. You’re still getting over your cold. Do you have your inhaler with you?” Natasha could feel her hands shaking as she held her phone at arms length. She was concerned about Ria’s still less than stellar health, but even more so in that moment she was simply trying not to vomit on herself. Ria may have been recovering from a bad bout of bronchitis, but Natasha was recovering from what literally felt like <em> death. </em> </p><p>“I has it,” Ria answered, reaching somewhere out of view of her phone’s camera. The Little then proceeded to cough half a dozen times as her still healing pulmonary system reacted to the sudden movement. </p><p>Natasha winced at the wetness evident in the girl’s cough. Apparently her Soulmate’s adult self had been lying about being nearly recovered. Either that or Uncle Tony had failed in his task to keep the dropped girl indoors at all times while she was away. </p><p>“Take two breaths on the inhaler please,” Natasha instructed, her voice shaking now in time with her unsteady hands. She needed to get off the phone sooner rather than later. Her own throat was starting to spasm, albeit for a completely different reason. </p><p>Ria obediently popped the cover off her inhaler and stuck the exposed end into her mouth. Without needing further instruction she pressed down on the cartridge at the same time as she inhaled, once and then twice and then three times apparently for good measure. </p><p>Normally Natasha would have commented on the girl not following her exact instructions but she knew she didn’t have that much time left before she had to end the call. The last thing she ever wanted to do was to hang up on Ria right after telling her she’d done something wrong. </p><p>“Good girl,” she settled on saying, her stomach flip flopping around despite the happiness she felt staring at Ria’s now eagerly beaming face. It didn’t take much to get the six year old to smile like that these days, but Natasha still treasured the unrestrained emotions as if they were few and far between. As if Maria was still hiding who she was and what she wanted out of life.</p><p>“I miss you Auntie Nat,” the Little replied, a hint of sadness in her otherwise now steady voice. </p><p>At least the inhaler was still doing its job, which meant there was one less thing Natasha needed to worry about over the next seven days. “I miss you too munchkin. I need to get off the phone now, but remember what I said in the beginning--”</p><p>“Don’t tell Uncle Tony or Aunt Pepper that you called,” the girl interrupted, nodding her head as if confirming her understanding of the explicit instructions. </p><p>Natasha smiled and nodded back. “Awesome. Okay kiddo, I have to run. Don’t be <em> too </em> mean to your uncle Happy while I’m away. I love you baby girl.” </p><p>“Love you too Auntie Nat!” Ria shouted back before the screen went blank. </p><p>Holy shit! The Little had actually hung up on her first! If Natasha wasn’t five seconds away from emptying the contents of her stomach all over herself she would have actually been upset that the girl didn’t need her as much as she once did. As it were she quickly shut off her own cell phone and tossed it across the bathroom, hopefully out of range of what she knew was about to come. </p><p>Turning over onto her hands and knees she pressed her forehead against the already sticky, though thankfully still cool tile floor, and began counting down backwards from ten inside of her head. She didn’t even get to seven before her insides began to revolt, her stomach muscles clenching as her body fought to bring up the last of whatever was still in her system. Mostly bile and sputum at this point. The alcohol she’d imbibed earlier had long since been retched up. </p><p>“Ubey menya seychas,” Natasha moaned, rubbing her face against the floor in a half hearted attempt to wipe the bile coated strands of saliva off her lips and chin. She’d have used her hands except for the fact they were the only thing keeping her from collapsing entirely onto her face. As it were she was already losing the battle to keep herself upright, and with a pathetic grunt the last of her energy gave out and she dropped the remaining three inches to the shower floor. </p><p>“Kill me now,” she groaned, repeating her previous lament in English this time. Her head was pounding in time with her heart and she honest to God wondered if perhaps now was the time to instruct Rogers on the proper protocol for knocking her the fuck out. Except calling him into the restroom to see her like this was the <em> last </em> thing she wanted to do, even if it meant he might be able to end her suffering temporarily. </p><p>Unconsciousness wouldn’t cure her, but it would at least give her a momentary reprieve from feeling like absolute death. She’d most likely wake up feeling twice as shitty, but that was a problem for <em> future </em> Natasha. Or possibly future Talia, which, <em> no. </em> No, she couldn’t risk letting the Widow out. Present Natasha simply had to suck it up and deal with the consequences of her own actions. As painful as that currently was and would unfortunately continue to be.</p><p>Ignoring her body’s protests, Natasha turned onto her side and curled her knees up to her naked and sticky chest. She was seriously regretting stripping out of her clothes <em> before </em> she dragged her sorry ass into the bathroom all those minutes ago. Or was it hours? Shit, she had no idea how long she’d been in there. At least twenty minutes? Maybe? How long had she been on the phone with Ria? If she hadn’t tossed her phone across the room she might have been able to check.</p><p>Not that it mattered. Really. Steve was going to continue to pace outside of the tiny bathroom whether she stayed in there for one hour or for five. She may not have had the physical enhancements that he did but his heavy footfalls were clear as day despite the shag carpet that padded the cabin’s main living area. At least he’d stopped knocking and asking if she were alright. Natasha wasn’t sure how much Russian the man truly understood but he clearly knew enough to recognize it was in his best interest to give her some space.</p><p>She was honestly surprised he’d listened and backed off when he did. Tony would have taken a lot more convincing to leave her alone and even then he would have probably had Jarvis monitor her instead. As stupid as it was, Natasha kinda missed Jarvis’s ridiculous mother henning. </p><p>At some point after moving into Stark Tower, Tony had reprogrammed the AI to include a Caretaking Protocol, as well as an “Oh Fuck It’s the Widow” Protocol. The former having been utilized at least a dozen times in the past year while the latter thankfully remained untested. That’s not to say Natasha hadn’t had a few close calls with fuzzy drops since the Avengers had formed, but in all those instances either Maria or Clint had somehow managed to keep her afloat long enough to be able to drop safely once she’d calmed down.</p><p>Even though Tony had begrudgingly built her a new state-of-the-art Safe Room inside of the tower, Natasha was proud to say that she hadn’t needed to use it as of yet. The fact that it existed in the first place seemed to be enough to keep her from actually needing to use it. </p><p>Her Safe Room back in the old Three Bears apartment seemed like such a distant memory sometimes. Even though Clint and Bobbi still owned the side by side townhomes, they rarely ever stayed there these days. Partially because none of them worked out of SHIELD’s DC office anymore, but also because they kind of felt like a relic of a different era. Not only had Bobbi and Clint finally Soulmate bonded but they’d also gotten <em> married, </em> something Natasha had honestly never believed she’d live long enough to see. </p><p>She’d always thought the only way her friends would ever commit to each other like that would be when she was dead and therefore no longer in their lives. The idea that she might one day find her own Soulmate and eventually break up with them romantically had never ever crossed her mind. </p><p>It was crazy how things could change so drastically in just a few short years. Not only did she have her own Soulmate in Maria Hill but she also had two Heartmates waiting for her back in New York. And if she were being completely honest with herself, a third Heartmate waiting for her on the other side of the thin bathroom wall. </p><p>As badly as she wanted to ignore the facts, Steve <em> was </em> her Heartmate. Bonded or not his connection to her would always be there. I mean, technically it <em> was </em> possible to sever a Heartmate link before both sides committed to it. Phil Coulson had done that after unexpectedly bonding with Maria almost a decade ago, and Maria had done the same back to him after finding out he’d been brought back to life following Loki’s attack. At least in Maria’s case Coulson’s memories surrounding the incident had been wiped and therefore he would never know about his lost connection to her. </p><p>Sadly Natasha didn’t have that luxury. Even if she unequivocally turned Steve down they would still forever know that the potential had been there. She would still feel her heart skip a beat whenever he looked at her or smiled at her. Whenever he offered to help Natty set up her finger paints in the rec room, or suggested she take a break from Avengers paperwork in order to eat the peanut butter sandwich he’d just made for her. </p><p>She couldn’t help but groan at the thought of a peanut butter sandwich right then. She was still nauseus as fuck but that wouldn’t have stopped her from scarfing down a plate of her preferred comfort food. No milk though. And definitely no jelly. Her stomach actually flip flopped at the thought of that shit coming into contact with her yummy peanut butter. Or maybe it was flip flopping because she actually needed to vomit again? </p><p>Natasha sucked in her abdomen experimentally just to check and was frustratingly rewarded with a new round of stomach spasms. Only this time she didn’t have the energy to turn over onto her stomach in order to help the process. </p><p>“Romanoff, I’m going to head to the restaurant to get us some dinner. I won’t be back sooner than two hours. I’m uh, I’m taking my phone with me,” Steve’s voice piped up from the other side of the wall. The “call me if you need me” was left unsaid, though the implication that he’d drop everything and run back to her was definitely there. </p><p>The fact that he’d specified he would be gone at least two hours was interesting though. Natasha had never been on a cruise ship before but couldn’t imagine it would take that long to find and bring back food. This of course meant he would intentionally dally to give her time to recover in private, which was… thoughtful, to say the least. Dammit! Why did he have to be such a good Big? Was he <em> trying </em> to make her feel worse about spiritually rejecting him? Ugh.</p><p>It was actually ironic when she thought about it, her negative reaction to Steve’s proffered Caretaking. Natasha could distinctly remember wishing more than anything in the world that someone, <em> anyone, </em> would smile at her and talk gently to her. Maybe even rub her back when she was curled up miserable on the cold cement floor of the Red Room’s communal showers. She remembered spending a great number of hours huddled around a rusty shower drain hoping, praying, that someone would end her misery for her. </p><p>Fortunately for her she’d still been relatively young when the Red Room had discovered a cure for what they’d called “post mission drop sickness”. Basically instead of leaving the girls to fend off their hangovers by themselves, their handlers would supply them with seemingly unlimited amounts of alcohol in order to halt the negative side effects of dropping back to back in such a short amount of time. </p><p>Even though Russia hadn’t been nearly as advanced as the West in terms of human rights for Littles, they’d actually been well ahead of their enemies when it came to the science behind dropping. Or at least, the science behind how to force a Little agent to drop repeatedly in a short amount of time without becoming incapacitated from the strain it caused on the brain. </p><p>Since drops were essentially prolonged seizures, or abnormal electrical activity in the brain, Red Room scientists had somehow discovered that inducing a completely separate type of seizure seemed to “reset” a Littles brain back to factory settings. Instead of suffering the usual ill effects of dropping repeatedly in a short amount of time, which most Red Room missions required them to do, the widow’s were eventually forced to rapidly imbibe unusually strong vodka until they were essentially poisoned with it. </p><p>Even though binge drinking had already been well known to cause seizures in adults, it had taken the Red Room an embarrassingly long time to discover that the same would hold true for pre-teens and teenagers as well. </p><p>As terrible as Natasha had always believed her luck to be, at least she had been spared the “alternative therapy” experiments that a handful of girls a few years older than herself had had to endure. While the experiments did officially succeed in causing seizures in Littles, the results of those seizures weren’t what the scientists had been looking for, and the girls who’d been forced to undergo those procedures had been quickly and quietly disposed of. </p><p>As far as ways to die in the Red Room, it was probably one of the most humane. Much better than being stabbed in the chest by your best friend and secretkeeper, that’s for sure.</p><p>Groaning at the unexpected and unwelcomed memory, Natasha decided it was time to stop wallowing and start doing something about her predicament. She’d already passed the point of alcohol being of any use but if she couldn’t reset her brain maybe she could at least alter it? If Clint had thought to pack her absinthe and a baggie of joints, there was a good possibility he’d also included some edibles as well. </p><p>So all she had to do was crawl out of the shower, across the bathroom, into the main cabin, and then to her diaper bag on her stroller. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right?</p>
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